


His own self

by aryadeschain



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 06:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14014716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryadeschain/pseuds/aryadeschain
Summary: In which Chris just takes those lazy moments after waking up to realize that reality was better than his dreams





	His own self

It had never occurred to Chris that Piers Nivans could be anything if not methodical. From the way he organized his papers and took care of his firearms to the way the moved and talked and acted as if everything had been meticulously planned. Of course, Lieutenant Piers Nivans had once been a rookie like every other member of his team. He had once been bolder and wilder, a young, untamed cub who believed he could single-handedly end all the evil in the world behind the scope of his rifle.

The times Chris had spent with no memory of all the things he had done, right or wrong, had put up a line between those days and the ones they had now.

Piers was still bold and Chris could see in the youth's hazel eyes that small flame that made him wild and full of life. But it was undeniable that the lad was so much more contained now. The captain of the North American branch of B.S.A.A. could never tell if Piers treated him more respectfully because of his patent, of his role, or of the months that separated them both.

Either way, Chris indulged in the small pleasures of their relationship. Not only the carnal ones, those would be the highlight of their nights (and occasionally mornings and afternoons). But the little things he noticed when Piers thought he wasn't looking.

For an instance, the captain enjoyed watching the lad clean his sniper rifle by the end of every single mission with a zeal that a mother would have with her child, and how he did it with focused indulgence and evident efficiency, disassembling the parts, oiling whatever parts needed to be oiled, then assembling them back again with the ease of someone who had been doing that for every single day of their lives. On hotter days, Piers would brush the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, smudging his face with grease, then cursing softly between gritted teeth when he realized what happened.

Chris liked to watch his young lover's little pet peeves and habits and every day things to which probably no one else but him cared, the way Piers diligently made his bed every single morning, always tucking the sheets from the left corner first, then the rest. How he would look at the carton of milk in the morning, fidget as if checking if no one else was looking, then drink directly from the carton when he was sure he was alone. How he would always take the first bite of an apple and look at it as if judging if the fruit was good or not for consumption.

And how soundly he slept when they were alone, just the two of them in their own little apartment, with the balcony's door fully opened to welcome the fresh nightly air. The soft rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath, the fading battle scars on his back, his naked body only partly covered by their linen duvet.

Piers almost always slept with his back turned to him, the remnants of their combatant spirits and the weight of their missions, when they slept back to back, just to make sure they would not be surprised by anything. During raids, Chris would almost always see Piers with his back turned to him, that silent young guardian that would always watch his back and make sure no harm would come to him or his.

It was only in these lazy days, when they were able to relax a bit more and actually be civilians, and not soldiers, that Piers loosened himself from being Lieutenant Nivans and was just Piers, this beautiful young man with a cool temperament, a restless sleep and, in spite of it all, an easy smile.

So today, only for this morning, the ever-so-disciplined Piers Nivans did not wake up before the sun rose, nor did he jump out of bed and took a glass of water before going down to 50 push-ups. This morning, he laid slopped in slumbers, in the warmth of the captain's arms.

And that was just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I was actually in the mood to write random things about Piers without the need for any context, so I just threw in this everything I like about him. It probably contains a bunch of grammar errors so, as usual, let me know if you find any!


End file.
